


What Comes In Threes

by atlasofirongall



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A little shameless smut, And I may or may not have gotten a little carried away with the length..., F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlasofirongall/pseuds/atlasofirongall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective French was always assigned to petty, dull cases. And then she met Evander Gold.</p><p>A gift for bytherose on tumblr, in celebration of Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015. </p><p>Prompt: And they fight crime!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bytherose](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bytherose).



_Young female, age 24, missing now for 28 hours._

Belle scanned the notes clipped to the file, trying to maintain a neutral expression. It was humbling, really. All of her cases thus far had been little things — or at least, little things as considered by the seniors in the department. Investigating which disorderly, working class youth had hurled a brick through the window of the mayor’s office had brought her some success, but the other detectives still grinned at her and watched her with casually folded arms and twinkling eyes. She was still the new kid on the block. 

Which was precisely why her hands shook a little as she read the file Detective Nolan gave her. “A missing person’s case,” she voiced with a hint of disbelief. 

Nolan nodded. “An abduction, or at least that’s my thought on it. I’ve spoken to a few close contacts of hers and none of them have given me any indication that she might have run away.” His eyes flit from her face to the file. “There’s a suspect I’ve been trying to talk to but uh, he’s a saucy one. While I could slap charges on him for not cooperating, I really don’t want to. I’d rather he just talked. A different tactic may work with him.” His deep blue eyes shot back at Belle, a meaningful look in them. “He was the last person to see her…”

Watching him sharply from beneath her lashes, Belle narrowed her eyes with comprehension. “You want me to talk to him.” A slow, easy grin spread across his lips. “What makes you think he’ll talk to me?” While she felt that she knew the answer, she knew Nolan was strategic. He could have had anything in mind.

“You have a different way of approaching people. See, I approach them with sureness and a firm threat that they must cooperate if they don’t want to face charges. Usually after reminding them of that threat, they come along. But you,” he pointed to her with a firm nod and a smile, “… _You_ kind of have this way of coming up to them like you’re walking up to a wild animal in the woods. You’re gentle, but you’re firm. You give them chances to talk, retreat when they bite back and get defensive, and then you round back with alternative choices, and they know that they have to talk to you if they want off the easy way. It works.” He shrugged. “I’ve heard how you work these things and I might have watched a few of your interrogations. You’re good. Maybe this guy will feel better talking to you.”

A shyness crept over her as she listened, and while she knew he pegged her accurately, she felt a little bashful at having been watched so closely. Being complimented by a senior detective in itself was huge, but the thought of working with him on his case made Belle feel jittery. 

“We can try it. I’m certainly willing to try.”

Nolan pushed himself from the desk he leant on, clapping his hands. “Good. Cause he’ll be here in about two hours.” At the slight look of uncertainty blooming on her face, he reached over and gave her shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him first, give him a chance to speak to me if he wants to. After that, I’ll introduce you and he’ll be all yours.”

He gave her one of his famous David Nolan winks and a brief but strong handshake, and left Belle wondering if she’d made the right choice in agreeing to help. She worried her lip and set the file on her desk, pivoting on its edge where she sat. As ever, she knew she had to take on this task with nothing more than a sense of purpose on her mind. Worrying and fretting would only make her weaker in her efforts of getting the suspect to speak. 

Well, at least she had time enough for tea before this new adventure began.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s a porn writer,” Belle said flatly with no small sense of incredulity. She just hid it well.

“Yeah. And our missing person is a porn actress, let’s not forget.” Professionalism was resonant in Detective Nolan’s voice and stance, but Belle could sense his amusement. She had known the occupation their victim held, and while Belle didn’t hold much judgement (at least not in the harsh, unfair, demonizing sort of way) she still faced the situation with a feeling of surreality. “Demi Ryder.”

“Hm?” Belle looked to him with knit brows.

“That’s her uh… Her stage name. So to speak.” Nolan was rubbing his bottom lip with his thumbnail and even from beside him Belle could see the mirth in his eyes as he stared through the glass. 

Looking him over with subtle disbelief, she shook her head. In spite of herself, she smirked. “Well, to me she is Miss Milan. Her stage name isn’t important, here.” Well, not really. 

A chuckle bubbled from deep in Nolan’s throat and Belle softly echoed it as she returned her attention to the interrogation room. The suspect had arrived a crisp ten minutes early, dressed to the nines and carrying an air that painted his character to be something more than a porn writer. He sat ramrod straight in the chair, shoulders relaxed and yet somehow stiff, or perhaps it was just how his suit made him appear. His features were drawn with quiet confidence, eyes pinned to the glass behind which they stood, and his hair was stylishly kept. Just past the table’s edge Belle could see the handle to the cane he twirled. It appeared to be gold, and judging by the way he dressed himself and held himself, she was sure it was. 

Belle gulped as the man’s gaze shot to hers. He couldn’t see her, but his stare was falcon-like and it made her feel quite small under its hold. Her skin prickled as she maintained her own stare, focusing on the dark eyes through the glass and across the room. There was something about this man. Nolan shifted to her right, and when he entered the interrogation room, the suspect blinked and watched in her direction a heartbeat longer before looking to stonily greet Nolan. Belle shivered. 

Minutes passed with a sluggishness that felt more like an hour. Belle found herself slumping against the window sill, watching with an odd balance of boredom and apprehension as her partner tried, and failed, repeatedly to get Mister Gold to talk. The door to the waiting room squeaked open, and Belle, so heavily sunk into the interrogation, hadn’t even noticed Sheriff Swan until she touched her arm. 

She almost lost her balance and fell from her perch. Swan’s outstretched arm caught her. “Sorry… I thought you heard me come in.” 

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just, uh…” Belle chuckled, her lips turning up with a wry smile that spoke of her embarrassment, light though it was. “I guess I was really paying attention to David’s interrogation.” 

Swan’s smile was somewhat grim as she nodded. She offered her a coffee. “He’s a smug son of a bitch, isn’t he?” 

Belle tried to disguise her grin with tight lips. She nodded to herself. “Oh, most definitely. Smugness is pouring from him. Just look at him,” she gestured at the glass with a finger. At the moment Mister Gold was sitting back, shoulders straight, chin level but his eyes… His eyes expressed so much at once. He wasn’t going to submit to Nolan, felt like he didn’t have to, and while he didn’t outright laugh at the detective, his eyes told a different story. 

“His money probably comes from bottling Eau de Smugbastard.” Again, Belle tried not to grin at Swan’s commentary. In fact, she was awfully tempted to ask if that was made by Armani but she fell short of doing anything at all when Mister Gold looked right at her. Nolan lifted a few fingers on his right hand and sent a pointed look at the mirror on the opposite wall. 

Beside her, Swan nodded and straightened. “Alright, that’s my cue. Time to get you in there, Belle. David’s ready for you.” With a raised brow, she waited for Belle’s response. “Ready?”

Tensing, Belle wrapped both hands around her coffee and tore her gaze from the suspect. She tried to steel herself before meeting Swan’s eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

 

* * *

Humming was a sort of nervous habit of hers. She did it in the early hours of the morning when sleep evaded her, when she found it was a better use of her time to go over her case than it was to lie awake. It also came as naturally as breathing in situations where tension was high. Much like the situation she was thrust into now. 

The interrogation had gone smoothly after Detective Nolan brought her in. So smoothly, in fact, that he’d given her the lead. Mister Gold had resisted at first, sizing her up with inquisitive dark eyes that bore straight beneath her flesh and read her from inside out. She poked at him with gentle questions, inquiries to test him and see if he’d relent for the sole sake of speaking to someone else. When that didn’t work, Belle worked more toward the emotional dimension of the matter. Observing the cold, steadfast stance he’d maintained throughout their time in the room, Belle doubted she could appeal to him at all with such a strategy, but she had been wrong. Small though it was, there had been a break in the armor he wore so determinedly. It took seeing a personal photograph of the victim, one that the parents had volunteered. Not her headshot, no. Something that was genuinely her.

The arrogant head bobbing and whipping of his hair had ceased, the smug smirk had fallen to be replaced by a grim frown, and the man dropped his chin to bow his head. His entire posture transformed in a course of a minute as Belle watched, waited, studying his physical response to the photo of Evie Milan posing in front of a Christmas tree with a small dog. He had sighed, ran his fingers through his effortlessly perfect hair, and then for the next half hour he’d spilled to her anything she asked for. 

Nolan had been so shaken, and so relieved by the results that he’d handed her the lead role in handling the case. It had taken some convincing to get the Director to agree, but Nolan knew she had an eye for him and he could harmlessly flirt enough to charm her into agreement. And so, he took the passenger seat to the case while Belle took the reins, and quite nervously so. 

He quite literally did take the passenger seat. He sat there now, one ankle crossed over a knee, reading over some notes in his lap as he tapped a pen against them. The jostling of the bumpy city roads didn’t seem to bother him in the least, and Belle had half hoped that it would disturb his work enough to make him look up, and maybe put them away. He didn’t. And so she hummed as though it were an instinct, casting soft, uneven melodies into the semi-quiet of the cruiser and tried to ignore the probing stare radiating from the back seat. 

Mister Gold had appealed to them to be allowed to assist them in solving the case of Miss Milan, curiously enough. It was something else that had Nolan raising his eyebrows at Belle anytime the man cooperated. They had both agreed to bring him along. He was quiet, too, as they drove, but she could feel his eyes on her, could hear the soft take-in, release of his breath, and the occasional punctuating thump of his cane on the floorboard. She felt as though he was trying to peel her open, and yet it didn’t feel threatening. It felt… Well, she didn’t quite know how to call it. She took a chance as she checked her rearview mirror, checking behind them before she took a turn, and her azure eyes connected with his. His dark amber stare held hers for a flicker of a moment before she had to look back to the road. 

Who would have known he’d be an asset to the investigation? He assisted her in close study, assisted her in questioning others on scene, offering input anytime he sensed (and it really did seem as though he could _sense_ when Belle found herself in a rare moment of being at a loss of what to do), and while he did offer some help at Nolan’s side as well, he was mostly her quiet, astute, ever attendant shadow.

In some ways, it made her uncomfortable, leaving her with the sensation of her every move being watched and followed. But the more he worked at their side, she found he was becoming a valuable partner to her and Nolan. If he could be called such.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times ensue. You're welcome.

That Thursday night the snow blew into town with a vengeance, and even for Maine it was enough to send everyone scurrying indoors to warm their feet at their fires. The three working on the case of Evie Milan had remained at the office late into the evening, pouring over notes and everything they had gathered so far. Chinese take-out containers littered the designated pit in the middle of the circle they sat in on the floor, sitting half-open amongst papers and sticky notes. They had been working diligently (and quite harmoniously, to Belle’s surprise, despite the occasional egotistical clash between a certain two gentlemen) until Nolan received an urgent and quite panicked call from his oh-so-pregent-and-ready-to-pop wife. At a quarter to nine he left to race to the hospital, where she was indeed about to do so, and bring their new baby boy into the snow swept world.

After wishing him well and sending him out with hugs of assurance, at least on Belle’s part, she and Mister Gold continued to work. That was until the power in the office went out. 

“I suppose that’s our cue to call it a night,” Mister Gold told her as he flicked a lighter that produced a small, bright flare of light. It softly illuminated his face, casting his eyes with a soft, liquid dark glow as he looked at her over the flickering light.

Sighing with some exasperation, Belle nodded, shifting where she sat. The sound of paper crinkling could be heard before she muttered a whispered ‘oops’. “I think you’re probably right. We won’t get much done if we’re bending our heads together beneath a cigarette lighter. Besides, if it’s getting this bad out there, we should probably go home before it gets so bad that we can’t.” She scooted a little closer so that she could share the little light his lighter provided. “You smoke?”

The shake of his head was visible, but barely so. “Only sometimes. It’s an old habit that has taken me many years to try to break.” Outside the wind howled and hurled against the windows, lashing heavy snow upon the building. He looked up, eyeing the windows with an aged wisdom that Belle hadn’t noticed in his features before. Perhaps it took the solitude and firelight to highlight it. Belle was distracted for a moment, watching him, before she realized he was speaking to her.  “ _Detective French_ ,” he tried again, mild irritation edging his words. A dark brow arched as he stared at her flatly.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, smoothing her hair from her brow. “That’s how tired I am,” she added with a soft laugh. “Well, I think it’s time to brave the snow. Where are you parked?” She made slow, cautious work of standing and picking up what she could see of their trash. Picking up their papers proved to be a little more challenging, as there was more if it and more spread. 

“Just around the corner of the building,” he replied, somewhat masking the grunt of his effort of standing with one bad leg. “I’ll walk with you, dearie. We’ll both get out of here more safely if we go together. Get your things.”

Normally Belle wouldn’t take too kindly to being told what to do, or to feel as though she was being catered to more gently for being a woman. But there was something authentically caring in his manner. She smiled a smile she was sure he couldn’t see in the dark before gathering what she knew she had to take. He muttered a soft ‘after you’ as he opened the door and let them both out. 

Instantly the cold bit at any exposed skin and Belle covered her cheeks with her gloved hands. The streetlights had gone out with the power, having apparently been knocked out all through their part of town. Good foresight had inspired her to grab flashlights for them both. With one she looked around them, and she could tell driving home would not be easy for either of them. 

His car was closest. Despite his disapproval, she helped him into his car and luckily there wasn’t so much snow that he couldn’t drive out. “Drive carefully, Mister Gold,” she told him, hanging in the driver’s side window. “You may call me when you get home. Just so I know you made it. On night’s like these…” She made a concerned face as she looked off ahead into the swirling wisps of snow in the darkness. 

“I’ll call,” he assured her, his features softening with appreciation she hadn’t really ever seen before. “You do the same, Miss French,” he said pointedly, putting his phone in the front pocket of his coat to have it ready. “Drive safe.” 

She swayed in the whipping wind and snow and watched his tail lights become little more than glowing red embers, then tramped her way to her car. It took some persuading to get the thing to start, and she took care enough to let it warm up before taking off, but she didn’t have far to go. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away from the station. She was a few inches from putting her key in her front door when her phone rang.

“Miss French,” came Mister Gold’s voice, scratchy and fraught with a tiredness she herself could feel. “It appears I cannot get to my home. The road’s been blocked.” Belle bit her lip as she listened, hearing the displacement he felt, feeling just how much he felt at a loss for what to do next. “Do you think I could go back to the station for the night? I don’t believe the inn will be open at this hour.” 

Biting her lip still, Belle looked down at her feet, then down the hallway. “There’s no need for that, Mister Gold. I have room for you, here. If you don’t mind staying with me in my apartment, that is.” A pause as she swallowed. “You may be more comfortable here. I can offer you my bed or the couch. There, you would only have a thin cell bed or a chair to choose from.” 

The other end of the line was quiet save for the recycled sound of the howling wind outside. Then she heard him sigh. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“You wouldn’t be. I’m inviting you. Really, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all. I’ll just tell you where to find my apartment.” She turned and leaned against her door, hoping he would just agree. She didn’t want to beg, but for some reason she knew she’d worry all through the night if she knew he was roughing it at the station.

She felt his hesitation, but then he agreed. “If you’re sure you’re alright with it, then I am in no position to say no.” 

“And I am,” she assured him. “I’m in the building behind the public library. I’ll come down to let you in.”

It hadn’t taken more than ten minutes for him to get to her building, and an awkward silence fell over them as she led him to her door. Only after she’d let him inside and took his coat did she feel she could breathe a little better, and she wondered if it were solely for the fact that she knew the man was safe. It was still a little difficult to look at him, though. From the way he kept his eyes trained to the floor, it seemed he faced the same struggle.

“Tea?” She hung his coat and went into her kitchen, filling her kettle. “I don’t know about you but I’m feeling very grateful for my gas stove at the moment.” She chuckled, setting it on the stove and lighting it. The power was out in her part of town, too, it seemed. It would be a chilly night. Though she would have lit her fireplace on any other night, this night it would be imperative that she did. 

“Tea, thank you,” he replied stiffly, but not impolitely. He met her eyes, then, reluctantly, and she smiled. Awkward though the circumstances were, they would both get through them with more ease if they could talk to each other. “What can I do?” 

Belle took up the candle she’d lit and used it to light another before handing it to him. “I have a few candles scattered around here. We should light as many as we can. All we’re going to have is fire and flashlights until the power is back. I need to get a fire going in the fireplace, too.”

“I can do that.” It was more that he told her, rather than volunteering. Belle found that she was in no mood to refuse. She went about the task of lighting the candles she had scattered around her living room. Wood was pulled out of her utility closet and after a few tries, Mister Gold had a modest start to a fire burning in the grate. They together moved her loveseat closer and sat, warming themselves as best they could with the fire, a few blankets, and their warm tea. 

Her plan had been to see that he had everything he needed to sleep comfortably in the living room, then get herself into bed. Instead they ended up drinking tea and talking well into the night, keeping their fire fed and burning and periodically looking out the frosting windows. 

“How did you get into the porn industry?” Belle asked him once, standing beside him at the window. It was a question that was out of place, but she’d been wondering it about him from the moment she first saw him in the interrogation room. He didn’t fit the picture of someone she imagined would write scripts for pornographic films. When he eyed her with an arched brow, she tried so hard to disguise her grin. Instead she was left with a poorly hidden smirk.

“Ah, that. I was wondering when it would come up. It’s been bothering you since you met me, hasn't it?” 

Belle’s eyes widened and she gave her head a shake that wasn’t at all convincing. “No…”

Mister Gold raised his eyebrows at her. “You disapprove of my choice of profession.” It was said matter-of-factly, and free of any sense of affront. Perhaps even with a shred of amusement.

“No,” she denied gently, but the truth was that she perhaps did disapprove. Maybe a little. She had never been one to watch porn. The thought of it left her feeling filthy. “Alright, maybe. Maybe a little,” she said, then, looking down. Suddenly she felt ashamed and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

He made an amused sound and turned to sit back down, and for a moment she watched him from the window. Curiosity was growing from what had been a bud for the days she’d known him so far. She took a drink from her tea and watched him relax back into the loveseat, crossing an ankle over his knee. A warmth was beginning to tingle in her that she wasn’t sure she could attribute to the tea, and it pulled oddly at her center. It seemed to draw her back to the couch. “You just aren’t what I imagined when Detective Nolan said we were going to be speaking to a porn writer. Not at all what I imagined.” 

Mister Gold chuckled. “Not scruffy enough for you? Or am I just too composed?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he laughed lightly and took a drink. “No, I don’t suppose I fit the description you were expecting. But a porn writer I am, Miss French. Whether I look it or not.”

Pursing her lips, she looked down at her tea, feeling quite shy. “So how did you get into it? Have you always been a writer?” She looked up at him through her lashes, somehow afraid to look at him directly. Perhaps it was for the healthy flush she felt in her cheeks, or the curious warming thrill she felt in her belly. There was just something about this man.

“I’ve been a writer for many years, yes. Only in the past eight years, give or take, did I begin writing porn.” He smirked, finding some hilarity in the statement. The smirk gave way to an open mouthed grin. His teeth caught a muted glint of the firelight and she found herself looking at them, and his lips. “I can’t really explain how it happened. I was a writer, writing science fiction and fantasy short stories, and somehow I wound up delving deeper into the romantic aspects of my stories. Before I knew it I was writing erotica,” he gave up with a shrug. 

Belle shifted, leaning sideways against the back of the couch and resting her head on her arm, listening. Somehow it didn’t entirely surprise her that he’d had a stronger interest in writing romances. She’d seen how thoroughly she’d affected him when she put Evie Milan’s personal photograph in front of him. Belle could see it even if he wasn’t willing to display it freely on any other day. Mister Gold had a soft heart. Soft, but strong and alive with a passionate fire, as she was slowly learning.

He gave his head a soft bob and hummed from the back of his throat as he settled further into his telling of the story. “One day an old friend called me up and said he had a colleague who was making a film. He needed a writer and I was apparently well recommended, even if I had never attempted to write a screenplay.” Over his tea he glanced at Belle, grinning in a way that made her insides flip. “Not until I met with this colleague of his did I find out I was going to be writing soft-core porn. I nearly backed out on the spot.”

Belle giggled at the face he made. “What made you go ahead with it?” 

“They handed me a few tapes of films they’d made. They wanted me to give them a look to see what I was getting into, but the director had a better idea. He made a few calls and a few days later, I was on set watching a filming of someone else’s film.” Readjusting, he turned to mirror her on the couch, resting his elbow on the back on the couch and leaning into his hand. A little laugh rumbled from him. “I was so uncomfortable at first. I was literally watching two people have sex. In front of people. In front of a camera! It felt incredibly wrong to be there. But as I watched, well…” He shrugged again, a movement that was less visible with how he leant against the couch. “I began to see the art in it. And it was beautiful. I watched for the remainder of the filming for the afternoon and when I left, I called up the other director and told him I was in.” He picked up his tea from where it was balancing on his knee and took a drink.

“And you’ve been writing porn ever since?” she asked, listening with rapt interest and watching with a smile. 

“I’ve been writing porn ever since,” he nodded in affirmation. 

It must have been the exhaustion and the tousling she had taken from the night’s oddly improvised events, but Belle felt so stirred by him. By his presence, his story… By his voice and the way the fire highlighted qualities in him she hadn’t quite seen before. She found herself scooting closer to him on the loveseat.

“I may be wrong, but I would think that, in order to write sex, you would need to be… Let’s say… Well versed in it?” She set her tea to balance on her knee and mirrored his posture, tilting her head into her palm. In all honestly she couldn’t be positive as to what on Earth she was doing, but it felt good. She felt alive there, beside him in front of the crackling, dancing fire. It felt like the world had been put on pause as the snow storm battered it outside, and now it was just the two of them seeking refuge in her apartment. Just the two of them seeking warmth from the fire, and she wondered what it would be like to seek it from him, too. 

He seemed to be catching her drift, for he, too, scooted a little closer. “Perhaps. It certainly helps. I’ve found that I’ve become better versed as I’ve written. You learn quite a bit from observing others in the industry.” His dark amber eyes were a liquid black and a suavity had returned to him, something akin to what she’d first seen in him through the glass of the interrogation room. The way he watched her left her feeling as though he could peel her bare, layer by layer until she lay before him with nowhere to hide. With the searing courage she felt heating beneath her skin, she wasn’t sure she had any desire to hide at all. 

“Is that so?” she grinned coyly, then pursed her lips with seemingly innocent interest. “Perhaps I ought to take a leaf from your book, then. It’s been a while since I learned something new, and I do love to learn.” Her gaze fell to his lips for but a moment and she wet her own, leaving them soft and glistening. When she looked to his eyes again, they were heavily hooded. 

Moving with the seamless, slow suavity of jaguar weighing its prey, he set his tea on the floor, and caught her eyes as he did the same with her tea. “And I do love a pupil,” he murmured, the words tapering into a soft growl as he came closer, his face but a few fingers’ breadth from hers, his breath hot and sweet on her lips. “But you should think long and hard before allowing me to teach you, dearie,” he said, his voice deepening with a satin darkness that made her tingle between the legs. “I’m not sure you can keep up.”

Belle’s eyes flashed with something hot. “Oh, we’ll just have to see about that,” she shot back quickly before capturing his lips with her own. She was aggressive, and impatient, and she kissed him hard with the tension that years of holding back had built within her. She sat up and pushed against him, and a sound of soft surprise slipped from him as he pushed back against her, unwilling to fall. Her hands tangled in his hair and wrapped around his neck, and his dug into her back as they pulled each other closer, kissing harder and faster. It was when Belle bit his lip that he pulled back, eyes closed for a moment before looking at her with a slow roiling fire in his eyes that seemed to burn deeply from within. She almost thought he was going to stop and pull away, but then he gripped her face and pulled her chin down with his thumb, parting her lips, and Belle nearly unfurled in two when he kissed her again, sending his tongue between her lips with hot urgency. 

Their tongues caressed each other softly, then roughly, and back again, and soon he was diverting from her mouth to kiss away to her ear, and down her throat. She felt a syrupy dizziness taking her over as he licked and sucked at the sensitive flesh on her neck, and she almost missed the moment his fingers flicked open her first button, but for the nick of his teeth. His fingers made clumsy, shaky work of undoing her blouse, but soon it was open and Belle gasped when he bent down and caught her nipple between his teeth, the contact slightly muted by the fabric of her bra. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she hissed when he dragged his teeth over the swell of her breast. She could feel the beginning of a drip between her legs and with the way their bodies were tangled, she couldn’t squeeze them closed. There was no defense against the teasing, tormenting feeling of her heating, wet core. 

He removed her blouse and his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a moment, and after Belle’s frustrated groan, he grasped each end and tore it apart. She gasped at the shock of it, and let him pull the torn garment away and throw it. For a moment she snapped out of her frenzy and met his eyes, and what she saw there sparked her impatience anew. Biting her lip, she curled her fingers around his belt and unclasped the buckle, and she grinned dangerously as she pulled the belt through and slung it to the floor. Then he was kissing her again, sucking hard at her lips and nipping softly, and she didn’t protest when he laid her back against the arm of the couch. 

She took advantage of his distraction to unbutton his shirt, a task she managed a bit quicker than he had, and with it open she grasped it to pull him closer. He however had other ideas in mind, and she let out a soft yelp when his hands slid up her thighs. The swelling heat between her legs heightened and burned the closer his fingers got to her center, and just when she wondered what he would do, she felt him tugging at the hose she wore. She broke the kiss and watched with wide, waiting eyes as he lazily pulled her hose from each leg, letting them pull back with a snap, and she nearly cried out with impatient desire, ready for him to just get on with it and fuck her, but then he stood up. A questioning whimper left her as she watched him saunter away. She didn’t understand until she saw him spread one of their blankets on the floor near the fire, and then he turned and faced her, leaning upon his cane. For a moment he looked unsure of himself, but he gestured for her to come to him, and she grinned, feeling unsure of herself and yet so sure all at once. 

Wearing nothing but her mid-thigh skirt and her heels, she walked to him, and Belle had never felt so dangerous in all her life. She made a little show of sauntering toward him, and when she was close enough, she kissed his neck and slid her hands up his chest. She could feel him flinch beneath her and shiver, and as she let her hands venture lower, she could feel that his desire related to her own. He hissed when she unzipped his trousers and plunged her hand inside, rubbing his cock with her open palm. She was kissing down his shoulder and listening to the slow, soundless pants coming from him as she felt him up, and then suddenly she stopped and pulled back, and walked back to the couch, taking care in bending over to show herself off as she plucked some cushions off. She dropped them on their blanket before lying down and settling herself amongst the soft cushions, and parted her legs just enough. 

Bending a leg, she slid the toe of one shoe up the side of his good leg, and she did still feel shy enough to blush as her skirt opened enough for him to see her. “I think I’m ready for my first lesson, Mister Gold,” she taunted him, her voice naturally taking on a breathy tone. Her foot slid back down his leg as he moved forward and lowered.

“You’re doing very well already, my dear.” His cane clattered to the floor as he lowered to lean above her, and she wasted no time in tugging his pants down, even if he did flinch at the act. They both worked together to get them off, and then his underwear, and while they were both lowering to lay again she wrapped her hand around his cock. He bent, trailing kisses down her throat and finding her breasts. His tongue was hot and slick as he licked over her left breast, exploring from the underside up, and when he caught her nipple with it, he clamped over the top with his teeth. Belle cried out, feeling heat surge down to her center, and her hand left his cock to grasp his ass, unconsciously tugging him against her. He groaned, his mouth vibrating around her nipple and she let out a soft cry. Swirling his tongue, he soothed the flesh his teeth had scraped, and then sucked, and as he did, rubbed his erection against her folds. Just to tease. Just to prolong the fire, to drag out the torment. The sensation paired with the feelings he was invoking with his attention to her breasts made her toes curl. 

“More!” she pleaded, arching her head back and crying when he thrusted himself against her folds again. He lifted his head and looked at her with a fiendish half-grin, his dark eyes large and wicked. Looking back at him, she tried not to show how she begged, but she did. She begged, even if she didn’t say the words. “More, oh gods, I need you.” 

Wordlessly, he lowered his head and as though not hearing a word, he continued to lavish his abundant attention upon her breasts and enjoy himself. Whimpering with frustration, Belle laid her head back, bending her knee and dropping it when he sent another shock of fire through her by sucking on her other breast. Again he thrust against her folds, but slowly, drawing it out, and she felt a quick, shallow burst of relief at hearing his moan echo her own. 

“Mister Gold,” she mewled, her plea evident in her voice. 

He sucked on her nipple, letting it pop from his lips as he pulled back and looked at her. “Evander,” he said lowly, crawling back up to be even with her. 

“W-what?” 

A chuckle left him as he wiped some hair from her brow. “My name’s Evander.” 

The sensations broiling in her body seemed to ebb as his ministrations stopped, and for a few moments she just breathed, eyes closed, and nodded. “Evander. Got it.” She panted, her breasts rising and falling with each pulled breath. “Alright, now…”

He didn’t let her finish. He kissed her hard, demandingly, and she responded eagerly. Her hands once again slipped over his back, beneath the shirt that was still draped over it, and she let her fingers explore him as they sucked at each other’s lips and felt each other’s pulses quickening again. “Wait, wait,” he said then, breaking the kiss, and looking lost as he pulled away. He blinked at her before leaning on one arm and grabbing for the pocket of his pants. He tugged his wallet from it and slung it open, and Belle realized what he was looking for. 

“Don’t,” she said before really giving it any solid thought. He didn’t hear her, and pulled the condom from his wallet. “No, it’s okay.”

“You don’t…?” He started, holding it up for her to see. The look in his eyes told her that he was genuinely concerned.

Belle looked at it for a moment, but her desire was so potent and so wild that she couldn’t think about taking the time to put it on. She took precautions for such things, and…well, she could berate herself for this horrible lapse of judgement later.

“I don’t want it. Just…” And at the look on his face, she could see that he’d misunderstood. “Oh for the love of everything, just take me!”

Her urgency reached him and must have reflected his own, because he forgot about the condom and dropped it, positioned himself between her legs again and, grasping her hip, entered her, and gods Belle had forgotten how that felt. And he didn’t hesitate, didn’t once stop, and she was only glad she didn’t have to get rough with him to make him understand that she needed this. His thrusts were long and slow at first, letting them both catch a rhythm, letting them both get a feel for each other, and just when she arched her back, feeling herself completely melding with his slow thrusts, he sped up, taking advantage of her arch. She cried out, which encouraged him, and he kept thrusting harder, faster, and she wrapped her leg around him, pulling him closer. 

He was dripping sweat above her, breathing quickly, raggedly, and soft whimpers sounded from him on almost every off beat. She wasn’t sure how to tell exactly, but she thought he must have been close. That was confirmed when he reached down and rubbed the place where she was most sensitive, timing it with his thrusts, and Belle arched again, fingers digging into the edge of the carpet. And then she felt the release, such sweet release. His came immediately after, as though he’d waited with every ounce of strength he had, and they both shook as they came, and when he collapsed on top of her, she surely thought that would be it. 

No words were spoken as minutes crept by, and part of her wanted to say something, but she hadn’t the faintest idea of what. He slipped to lie beside her, rolling onto his side, watching her as she slowly caught her breath. His hands were slow as they caressed over her, and when his thumb brushed over her clit, she moaned, smiling. Leaning up, he peered over her shoulder to see her face, and explored further with his fingers. Moaning, she pushed back, and was surprised to feel him hard again. Rolling back a little, she caught his eye, and saw the glimmer there.

Wordlessly, once again, he moved, getting up, and with gentle hands he helped her to her knees. He knelt behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. Belle smiled, sighing as an odd sort of calm came over her. She wanted more of him, yes, but this felt so good. She knelt her head back against his shoulder as he caressed her breasts and rolled them under his palms, but then he bent her over and suddenly she was afraid that this was going somewhere she didn’t want it to. She looked at him worriedly, but he smiled. And then he entered through her folds, gently, and they both sighed. 

“Lesson number two,” he said in her ear, and softly chuckled, and she replied with a breathless giggle as she leaned back against him to his gentle coaxing, giving them a new angle.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When she woke that morning, it was to artificial light and the smell of coffee. The power had come back on sometime over the night, and it appeared her partner had awakened before she had. And apparently took it upon himself to make breakfast. Sitting up, she wrapped a blanket around herself and looked around, touching her tousled hair as she spotted their scattered clothes. 

“Good to see you’re awake,” Evander said from the kitchen. He brought her a cup of coffee, which she accepted dazedly. “I made some breakfast,” he announced needlessly. 

“I see that… Thank you.” She blew on her coffee before taking a small sip, and looking around. She looked down at herself, essentially naked beneath the blanket, and looked up at him, lazily dressed in what he’d worn the day before, and inwardly whimpered. “I, uh… I may have to skip it, though. I really need to get to the station.” 

Evander visibly deflated. “Oh. Right.” Turning and going back into the kitchen, his steps were heavy and punctuated by the thump of his cane. “You can enjoy the coffee, then, at least.” The lack of feeling in the statement made Belle’s heart drop. 

She said nothing as she retreated to her bedroom. 

Belle wasn’t sure how much time she spent in her bedroom, but it was enough to allow her to shower and thoroughly wash her hair, dry it, and dress. And after emerging, dressed for a new day (and after a pretty lengthy pep talk) she found the living room and kitchen Evander-free. Even as a frown tugged at her lips, she sighed with some relief. 

She didn’t look for a note or any indication of what he’d done. She fixed a second cup of coffee for the road, bundled up, and left. Work would keep her too busy to think about what had transpired the night before, and most importantly, Evie Milan had to be found.

 

* * *

 “French, you’re a terrible liar.”

Belle said nothing, taking a second to side-glare at her partner. She didn’t have time for story telling and she didn’t particularly want to get into said story. Nolan had been poking her all day about where Mister Gold was, and about why she became instantly uncomfortable when he asked. Belle had hoped that once they got out in the field, he would have dropped it to focus on the task at hand instead. As it appeared, following a lead and perhaps being within minutes of finding their victim didn’t stop David Nolan.

Nothing did. 

“We’re working, Nolan. We can’t be worried about what Mister Gold is doing. I saw him this morning before work and he was fine. If Ariel said he called in to take the day off, then there you have it. Now stop asking me.” Nolan held his hands up in surrender and raised his eyebrows, and she decided she would ignore the amusement shining in his eyes. 

Someone had come forward with a report of seeing someone who matched Evie Milan’s description, walking arm in arm with a man near the block they were parked outside of. An older woman had spotted the Evie Milan lookalike while walking her dog, and thought it odd that the young woman looked uncomfortable walking linked with the man at her side. When seeing Evie’s photograph on the afternoon news, she’d called the station. Nolan had also found out that  a home on the block was owned by an ex-crew member of the film. It seemed too much of a coincidence to be nothing at all. And so they sat in their cruiser on the opposite side of the street, a block down from their target. 

“Ugh.” Nolan made a light groaning sound, as though trying to muffle it, and grabbed his stomach. Belle tried not to pay him any mind until he started shifting in his seat. 

“You alright?” she asked, watching him with a wary eye. “Nolan?” Now that she looked at him, really looked at him, he didn’t look well. 

He held up a hand and waved it off, though, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I think that tuna sandwich I had earlier didn’t settle right or something. I’m alright, though. Don’t worry.” 

Pursing her lips, Belle leaned back, looking back at their target. “Alright, but let me know. We can go get you a ginger ale or something if you need…” 

“No, I’m going to be alright.”

They sat for a minute or two more, watching ahead for any movement at the address they were watching, and when Nolan stirred and opened the door, Belle worried he’d be sick. 

The sound of retching confirmed her fears. 

“Oh David…” she groaned as she rounded the car, coming to stand by where he doubled over. He held an arm out, keeping her away, either to protect his modesty or hers, or both. “You really aren’t well. We should get you to the station, alright? Get you a ginger ale and some soda crackers or something. That’ll help.”

“Or this’ll do.” 

Belle hadn’t heard approaching footsteps or so much as seen a cast shadow, but the voice sounded barely a few seconds before she felt the blow. She both felt and heard the loud crack, and suddenly everything went black.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for mentioned assault and battery, but nothing huge.

Director Mills had refused to let him go till she was purple in the face, but it hadn’t stopped him from doing it on his own. Three hours after Belle and Nolan had gone out, and with no word back to the station, the department began to worry. Mills wanted to send out a couple of officers to look for them and see if they needed help, and Evander implored her to let him go with Sheriff Swan. She however didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. But he’d do this on his own. 

The first thing he did was call Belle’s phone, which was a dead end as she’d apparently foolishly left it at her desk. Calling Nolan’s phone only brought him more concern when it went straight to voicemail. It wasn’t on. Beginning to feel the onset of panic, he forced himself to stand against the wall and take in slow breaths, counting to five between each breath in and each breath out. Once he’d calmed enough to think, he went to Nolan’s desk and looked for anything that might tell him where they’d gone. A direction, an address, anything. What he found was a location on a haphazardly drawn map, and a range of scribbled addresses. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and made his way out of the station as quickly as one could with a bad leg, one which was giving him more trouble since the previous evenings events. 

It took all he had not to speed through town to find the location drawn on the map. He wanted to, in hopes of finding Belle and Nolan faster ( _most importantly Belle_ ), but it wouldn’t serve anyone well if he had an accident on the way. He eventually reached the block on Leopold Street, and once there, he quickly spotted Belle’s cruiser.

Evander took care in walking to the car, taking sure, careful steps and keeping his eyes and ears open. His free hand held his pistol, and he didn’t give a damn if he had the book thrown at him later for not having a license to carry it in public. If something had happened to Belle, he’d take care of the wicked soul who was responsible. 

The car appeared to be empty, and as he approached, he saw that the passenger side door was left open. Not until he got closer did he see that Nolan was laid across the ground, unconscious. His phone wasn’t far away, smashed. Belle was nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t call out for her. He didn’t make a sound. Rather he crouched to sit in the car and pulled out his phone to call the station.

To the poor, stressed secretary who answered, he said, “This is Evander Gold. I’ve found their cruiser. Nolan is down, most likely knocked out. French is missing.”

Once that was done and he was certain the station was thoroughly stirred, like an anthill someone poured water on, he walked away from the car. Someone would come for Nolan. He was more concerned with finding where Belle had been taken. His mind was buzzing as he crossed the street. Anger throbbed in his ears, fear laced it, and he was sure some different breed of urgency rode in the waves of adrenaline coursing through him. He felt in his gut that where he would find Belle, he would find their missing person. Poor, dear Evie. 

In the spare moments that passed, he wondered if this would have ever happened to the poor girl had he never convinced the casting directors to give her a chance. Had she never taken this role, would have been abducted? Was she alright? Was she alive? 

Was Belle alive?

Blowing hard through his nose, he shook his head, desperately trying to clear his head enough to think. As his cane hit the sidewalk on the other side, he stopped and did his breathing exercise again, and then looked around him. Nolan had scribbled down these addresses, so they were watching one of these homes. And after taking a slow walk down the sidewalk, he’d decided which one it must have been. All of the homes had lights on inside but one — 2301 Leopold Street was entirely dark. He casually walked to the front door, looking around for any sign of anything abnormal. Anything suspicious. And then he saw a hair pin that he’d remembered Belle wearing once. 

Or he _thought_ he’d seen her wear. Either way, what were the chances that a ladies’ hair pin would be cast on the ground outside a seemingly vacant house? With his gloved hand he tried the door. It was locked. He gritted his teeth, looking around. 

Walking on the grass to mute the sound of his heavy steps and his cane, he looked around the perimeter of the house. On the south side there was a cellar door. It was worth a look, he decided. Descending down the steps, he tried the door and, it gave. And it gave silently. Strange, he thought, that a cellar door in a seemingly vacant house would have oiled hinges. As he entered, he thought surely that it would be empty. It was completely dark. Black darkness. And then there was a flash of pink. Then a quicker flash of purple. Then brilliant silvery white. And with it, the faint sound of music. He went in farther.

What he found inside left him feeling more uneasy than he could remember feeling in his life. The cellar had been but an entry way to a tunnel carved beneath the house. A long, damp, cavernous hall extended from the cellar door, and after several yards he reached a cluster of chambers, most empty. The music grew louder, the lights more frequent. And when he came to the end of the hall he came face to face with a dark curtain. On the other side the music was blaring. 

For a moment he breathed, closing his eyes and preparing himself for what he may see on the other side. He gripped his gun tightly in his hand and, leaning against the wall for support, pulled back the curtain by an inch with his cane hand. There was a medium sized room with various props set up, as though for a film set. And a camera. He instantly recognized some of the props. It seemed things had been stolen from their company. Now he knew for certain he’d find Evie here. He dropped the curtain and turned, looking once more at the chambers he’d passed. Two of them had been occupied recently, both on opposite sides of the hall, and in one of them someone was lying on a makeshift bed, entirely draped in a quilt. Evander stood in the doorway and stared, swallowing hard, afraid of what he’d see if he went further. 

He knew he had to. He had to know who was there. 

Standing above the still form, he grasped the edge of the quilt and pulled it back. With relief he realized that it wasn’t Belle. But it was a woman, one who had been roughed up beyond recognition and if he had to guess, he’d say she had either been heavily drugged or beaten out of consciousness. Anger and sorrow flooded him at the sight of the woman. “What happened to you, dear?” he thought out loud as he tried to turn her face where he could see it. 

“Leave her alone,” came a crackly voice, one that he knew he recognized even through the trauma. “Leave her alone. You’ve done enough… Don’t hurt her anymore…” The voice cracked, but even as painfully strained as it sounded, he could hear the fierceness in it. He laid the quilt back over the woman and turned to look at Belle, and he nearly fell to his knees. 

She was half leaning against the doorframe, looking as though she’d been hit. He could see where a wound glistened on her hairline, and he could see bruises darkening on her arms. It hadn’t been that long since she’d gone missing, and yet all this had happened. “Belle… Belle it’s me, Evander,” he said, holding up his hands as he crossed the room, looking her over. She was dressed in lingerie that was fit for an erotic dancer, and her hair was done up in a style that would have been very attractive in any other circumstances. None of this suited her, and he knew none of it was by choice. 

“Belle, my dear, who’s done this to you?” he rasped weakly as he drew close enough to touch her. He was afraid for her, truly, when she didn’t look like she registered who he was. But when he reached out to brush a piece of hair from her head wound, she didn’t flinch, and she didn’t protest. She closed her eyes tight and for a moment he feared she mistook him for her attacker, and then she threw herself at him and wept. 

All he could do was fall back against the wall, stuff his gun in his coat pocket, and hold her with his only free hand. If the cane fell and made any clatter, they were done for. Luckily her sobs were well muffled by his coat, and he knew he couldn’t stop her. 

“It’s alright, Belle,” he crooned to her as he held her tightly, patting her hair. “It’s okay. We’re going to get out of here. All of us.”

Sniffling, Belle pulled back, still holding onto him. It was then that he realized one of her legs had been hurt. “Yeah… Yeah, Evie,” she said, and he breathed in a sigh of relief to hear coherence. “She’s over there. She’s drugged, Evander. He’s been drugging her. And now he’s got me, and when she wakes up…” Her fingers dug into his back and he winced, but he was more focused on her words. 

Caressing her cheek, he nodded. “What? What’s going to happen when she wakes up?” he prompted.

Her face contorted with distress and she whimpered. “He’s going to make us do it. We have to get out of here. She needs help.” 

Evander couldn’t be entirely certain as to what she meant, but he had a fair idea. “I think you need to be looked at too. But first, we have to get out of here.” A pause. “Can you walk?”

Belle blinked, looking down at her injured leg. “Yeah. Yeah, I can. I think it’s just sprained.”

“Alright. I’m going to get you out of here first. Help should be here soon, I called the station as soon as I found Nolan.” At her sudden look of fear, he soothed her with a pet to her hair. “He’s going to be okay. He’s just knocked out. C’mon.” 

Making their way out of the room, they began to go down the hall when Belle made them stop. She limped into the chamber on the other side and watching, Evander saw her pull her clothes out of a garbage bag. Even as strained with pain and fear as she was, he could still see her thinking, and she opted for putting her shirt on over the lingerie and leaving the rest of her clothing there. She knew there was no time. Once she put her gun belt over her hips, she came back to him, and they continued on their way. 

“When we get outside, I want you to go to my car. Wait there until help comes.” He fished the key out of his pocket and with no small amount of struggle, with juggling everything in one free hand, he gave it to her. “I’m going to come back in and get—“

Gunfire rang through the tunnel. An obscenity flew from Evander’s mouth that he never would have said in front of Belle as they ducked. “Belle! Go, get out! Go to my car,” he ordered as he gave her a push towards the door. It wasn’t far now, and she could get out. This needed to be left to him. She was in no shape to take on this fight. Not now. 

He was surprised when she followed his instructions. Ducking, nearly hitting the floor as another gunshot rang out, he watched as the door opened and she disappeared through it. Just through the crack, he could hear the distant wail of sirens. Turning, he looked to see a figure silhouetted against the flashing club lights. Slipping into the door of an empty chamber, he took cover, before looking out again. The shooter shot again, and when it was clear, Evander took his first shot. Then, there was nothing. Quiet fell over the tunnel and Evander barely breathed, listening, waiting for any sound to indicate that the shooter was near. 

For what must have been a few minutes, there wasn’t a sound to be heard, and Evander took a chance. He took a peek around the corner. The figure wasn’t there, at least not that he could see. Nothing stood in the flashing lights. 

So he stepped out, heading towards Evie’s room. 

It was suspiciously calm as he walked back to the chamber where he’d found her. No more gunshots, no dark silhouettes, not even a sound other than the horrible music he heard. Evie was just as he’d left her on her makeshift bed, and only when he sat to help her sit up did he realize he had no earthly idea how to get her out of there. He couldn’t carry her. 

Regardless, he couldn’t _not_ try. 

Pain shot through his ankle as he stood, hauling her weight up with him, wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders. The young woman was still unconscious. So with slow, painful steps he carried them both to the door, and cautiously, he looked out. When seeing the coast was clear, he stepped out, and slowly began to make his way down the tunnel. 

It was a slow process. Every few steps he had to stop and lean back against the wall, panting and gritting his teeth against the pain shooting up his leg. Constantly he was on watch, looking in every possibly direction and keeping a hand on his gun. 

When he was nearly halfway down the tunnel, it seemed his ankle couldn’t take anymore of the extra weight. White-hot pain exploded in it and he dropped, biting his arm to keep from crying out. Sitting in a crumpled heap, trying to protect the woman on his arm, he looked to the door desperately, wishing help would come. He couldn’t get her out on his own. Not now. His ankle was probably broken again.

And then help did come, but not in the form he’d hoped.

“They’re coming Evander,” Belle breathed excitedly as she staggered towards them and knelt shakily. “Come on, we have to go. They’re coming but not fast enough. Here,” she said, taking Evie from his arm and trying to hoist her up over her own shoulders. For a moment he almost thought they would get out to safety.

But the shooter seemed to be back. 

Belle screamed, crying out in surprise, and roughly hit the wall as she tried to dodge the gunfire. Almost instantly Evander had his gun, firing back. And then it seemed it was open fire. The figure in the flashing lights was there again, making a slow journey down the tunnel as he took turns firing, ducking behind doors when he needed to, and Evander could think to do nothing but shoot and duck. Once or twice he looked behind him to see Belle shooting, as well. Evie must have been put in one of the open rooms. 

Getting up, he leaned as much of his weight on his cane as he could so he could move with his good leg, and fired, and a cry echoed down the tunnel. The shooter had been hit, and whether it was by his shot or Belle’s he couldn’t know. Quiet fell as the echoes from the gunshots faded, and the fine wisps of smoke dissipated into the air. Evander looked at Belle, who nodded to tell him she was okay. And then one last shot rang, from where he couldn't see. It hit him in his leg. The bad leg. He cried in agony as he dropped, and Belle cried out in fear, and suddenly she was gone, running unevenly down the tunnel. He called her name weakly, even though to him it sounded like a scream, but she was gone. And all he heard after that was three consecutive shots. 

Blood was streaming from the wound in his leg, and though he squeezed it, it didn’t help. Belle came back, seemingly unharmed, and for that he sent a prayer to whatever higher power there was. Then the door to the cellar opened and a blonde head popped in, illuminated by the moon. 

He couldn’t be certain what happened past that.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more of the sexy times. ;-)

Evie Milan was hospitalized, and after some time and care, she recovered and returned home to her family.

The abductor was hospitalized for the gunshots he took, both serious but not fatal. Upon recovery he would stand trial for the abduction, battery, and assault, and the abduction and battery of a law enforcement official. 

Nolan came around after a few hours of being hit and swore never to touch another tuna sandwich after hearing what had happened. 

Evander had his gunshot wound tended to, and he would recover, but he would be instructed to stay home for a few weeks and move as little as possible.

Belle’s head wound was very minor, and she was fine with a few stitches. Coming out the least injured of the two, she would be the one to look after Evander and keep him from trying to move on his twice injured bad leg. 

The department didn’t look at Belle as though she were the silly new kid on the block anymore. Director Mills commended her (and Nolan) on her work with finding Evie Milan and now, everyone greeted her with smiles and firm handshakes when she walked into the station. Of course, some of the amusement was still there. It was all in good faith.

Of course, no one knew just how great of a role Evander Gold had played in the solving the case. But Belle knew. And maybe for now that was enough.

The only way Belle could get Evander to remain indoors was by showing him just how much it had snowed. Getting him to stay off his leg was one thing, but getting him to stay inside had been enough to have her pull her hair out. 

She knew he was bored. The relief and joy at having found Evie Milan and returned her to her family safe and sound had worn off, and now he had nothing to do but sit in her apartment and wait out his recovery. His director had requested something new to perhaps add to his script, and so there was that, but she knew he could only focus on porn scripts so much each day. 

Perhaps a little _doing_ would be more stimulating than _writing,_ once in a while.

At the moment he was sitting up in bed (her bed, she’d since moved him in — her excuse being that she had to ‘look after him’) looking over something he’d written. Belle was in her bathroom, trying to arrange her hair in a way that spelled something sexier than the end of a nine hour shift. The deep pink bra and panties she had stripped down to did, at least. 

Once her hair was falling free around her shoulders and lightly tousled, she peeked around the door and slipped into the room. At first Evander didn’t look up. He was too focused on his writing. Smiling to herself, she walked closer to the bed, putting herself directly in his line of sight the moment he looked up. 

The script was soon forgotten.

“Hey,” she murmured softly, leaning down and giving him a sweet kiss. He responded happily, but lazily, as though in a fog.

“Hey… What’s this, now?” he asked with a lopsided grin, looking pointedly at her breasts.

His pain medication truly had looped him out, she realized. If this was the reaction she got for being half naked in front of him with her breasts propped up and ready for ravishing, he wasn’t on top of his game. Still, she thought he’d enjoy the attention. She knew she would.

She shrugged, sitting beside him. “Oh, I just thought you’d like to look at something other than your work. And maybe get your mind off it for a while.” She rested her hand on his chest and rubbed him soothingly, and while the act was innocent enough, she could see desire blooming in him. 

“Oh Belle, I want to, but…” He glanced at his leg, still heavily wrapped. 

With a shake of her head, she got up and straddled his lap, leaning down to hover against him. His eyes widened a little as he watched her, and when her face came close to his, a slow grin curved his lips. “I think I’m due for another lesson,” she said with a sigh, touching his chest and letting her hand slip downward, slowly, lazily, to rest on his waistband. She watched him as he tried to keep himself reined in, grinning all the while. Leaning in, she giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Now I think I _may_ have the gist of how this works, but um… I think I need you to guide me,” she said with a shy smirk, and then rubbed herself against his bulge. He hissed and arched his head back when she did, and she bit her lip at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

Finally he responded, running his hands up and down her sides, cupping her breasts and leaning up for another kiss. It was a slow, almost chaste kiss, but there was need in it enough to rob her of breath. There was something else there that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it held her captive. There was just something about this man. 

He was the one to pull away, but he didn’t go far, staying near enough to look into her eyes. She could feel his grin on her lips. A shiver rippled through her as his hands slipped slowly down to rest on her hips. 

“Alright, my dear. Lesson number three.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> For bytherose on tumblr. Have a very Merry Christmas, Leah <3


End file.
